A Deep-Fried Thanksgiving Goose
by deepfriedcake
Summary: In which Luke gets a hand(le) on what he really wants.


**Author's Notes:** You all surely knew that sometime I'd have to tackle the episode from whence came my name. You might not be expecting a whole story based upon a fleeting two seconds of screen time, however. Thank Lulu for this one, who pointed out the camera catching Luke's little slip-up years ago. A Thanksgiving goose, indeed! (Also please note that some of the early dialogue comes directly from the episode.)

* * *

"Get more trash cans," Jess dourly told his uncle.

"I don't need more," Luke disputed. He followed Jess further outside, not only because he wanted to confirm that his nephew was actually going to do something with the trash bags stuffed with Thanksgiving detritus. The cold night air was bracing after a day stuck inside the diner's hot kitchen. It felt good to stretch out his muscles and to take a cleansing breath of the almost-freezing air.

"But yet you've got me running around town trying to find someplace to dump these," Jess countered, shaking the bags.

"Just dump 'em in one of Taylor's bins," Luke suggested. "It gets them out of here and drives Taylor crazy. It's a win-win."

The delicate _clip-clip _sound of high heels on the sidewalk alerted them that the Gilmore girls had returned from their Guinness attempt for the most Thanksgiving dinners ever eaten in one day.

"Hi, guys!" Lorelai still looked and sounded remarkably animated, considering her extra-long day. Her hair still persistently curled around her shoulders, and the overhead light from the diner's front door picked out a few of the caramel-colored highlights in the strands. She and Rory nimbly climbed up the steps to the diner's open door.

"We're out of food," Luke told them preemptively, hoping to avoid seeing their stomachs explode within his place of business.

"Oh, please. We're not eating for a year," Lorelai informed him.

"Or tomorrow morning," Rory threw in.

"Whichever comes first," Lorelai added. "Hi, Saint Nick," she teased Jess.

"Tell 'im to get more trash cans," Jess beseeched Lorelai, although his gaze was locked on Rory, who looked radiant in her red coat. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Just go," Luke ordered Jess.

"You got any coffee?" Lorelai asked hopefully.

"That I've got," Luke acquiesced. He came up the stairs, joining Lorelai on the top step. For some reason he liked the fact that even with heels on she had to tilt her head to look at him, now that they were face-to-face. "Hey, did I see flames coming from Sookie's place a half hour ago?"

"Yeah. Why?" Lorelai replied carelessly, giving a shrug and a conspirator's smile towards Rory.

Luke sighed, knowing he'd never get a straight answer out of either of them now. "Come on in," he offered.

Lorelai followed him but Rory skipped back down the steps, going after Jess. He exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Lorelai, both of them knowing what that was about. Something approximating envy flared through Luke. To tamp it down he set off for the counter, grabbing a mug for her as he went.

He swirled the coffee around in the bottom of the pot before he poured it. "So you still look awfully pretty," he mentioned casually, and then froze, stunned from hearing what he'd just said. He'd meant to say _perky_. You look _perky_. He had no idea where the pretty came from. Nervously he glanced back over his shoulder at her, debating whether or not to try and set the record straight.

She was smiling, but there was a certain amount of wariness on her face. "Um, thanks," she responded carefully, but that was enough to let him know he was off the hook.

Relieved that his blunder wasn't going to become a thing, Luke set the coffee down in front of her. "How was the big day?"

Lorelai slumped on the stool, resting an elbow on the counter. "Luke, do you ever find yourself in situations where you know _exactly_ what's going to happen, and so you tell yourself, over and over and over again, that _this_ is the time you're going to rise above it all? That this is the time when you won't take the bait. That this is the one time that when the situation is reviewed, you'll be the one who managed to look good?"

"Sure."

"Well, today wasn't my day," Lorelai confessed forlornly.

He wondered what part of the day had gone wrong. He knew that Lorelai didn't agree on very many things with Mrs. Kim, but she always treated Lane's mother with the utmost respect. He couldn't imagine her ever having a disagreement with Sookie. And her time with them at the diner, the meal he'd finagled so that he could pretend he'd given his nephew something resembling a real Thanksgiving dinner, had been accomplished with hardly a snide remark or cool stare. So it was pretty obvious to him where the problem had been.

"Families," he said, commiserating with her. He pushed the full mug towards her, hoping that would help wash away whatever unpleasantness was dogging her.

Rory came through the door and dashed towards the counter, her cheeks glowing from the cold air and her few private moments with Jess. He and Lorelai exchanged another swift look, pretending again that they didn't know, and Lorelai instantly sat up straight on the stool, exchanging her pensive mood for her normal upbeat one.

"So how did the four dinners work out? You guys must be more stuffed than you've ever been." Luke pushed a coffee mug towards Rory, too.

The girls launched into an exchange about other food binges and he shut his ears to everything but the cadence of their voices, not wanting to know the details about their poor eating habits. He ignored those details the same way he pushed aside the thought that there might be more opportunities for them to do some other quasi-family events together, now that Jess was dating Rory.

"See, we didn't eat at my parents' because of the upset, so we really had three dinners, not four."

Lorelai's voice finally broke through to him. He looked at her quickly and she widened her eyes at him in a way he knew meant 'I'll tell you later.' So he was right. There had been a fight with her folks again.

"Which means…" Rory said leadingly.

"What?"

"We didn't have to skip rolls."

Lorelai gasped. "Oh yeah. Hey, do you have any rolls left?"

"No. Come on!" Luke was appalled anew at what they could eat.

"Just a little something for the walk home," Lorelai said, tossing him her best flirty look.

He didn't know why he ever thought he could resist that look. He grabbed a bag of leftover rolls and handed them to her in resignation. "I don't see how you do it," he muttered.

"Well, you're not us, are you now?" Lorelai laughed and slid off the stool. She and Rory headed for the door, triumphantly clutching the bag of rolls.

"'Night, Luke!" Rory turned back to say.

Lorelai stopped at the open door. "Hey, why don't you go on out and make kissy faces at your boyfriend for a couple of minutes? There's something I want to talk to Luke about. I'll be out directly, so don't be doing anything you don't want me to see."

Rory rolled her eyes at her mother. "You can be so gross sometimes," she complained, but all the same she eagerly rushed out the door.

"Only sometimes?" Lorelai called after her. Then she closed the door, standing motionless with her hand on the doorknob, her back towards Luke.

He leaned against the counter and waited, expecting to listen to whatever petty argument had erupted today between her and her snobby mother.

When Lorelai turned around the forced smile on her face made her look unusually ill at ease. She pushed a hand through her hair and then tugged at the collar of her coat. She took a deep breath and finally looked straight at him.

"Yesterday, when Rory and I were here to discuss the Thanksgiving arrangements…" she began, haltingly.

Inwardly Luke groaned. He knew that she knew how much it had meant to him to have them in the diner today. He didn't like that she knew, but he'd assumed she'd picked up on it. The very last thing he wanted to do, however, was to discuss it. He gave a miniscule nod though, letting her know he knew what she was talking about.

She blew out another big breath of air. "So this is basically just for my own curiosity, but… Did you know where your hand was?"

Every now and then the words coming out of her mouth completely dumbfounded him, and this was definitely one of those times. "What?" He drew his hands out in front of him, palms up. He looked at them questioningly and then stared cluelessly at her. "My hands?"

"Hand. Just one hand," she corrected him, but she looked conflicted. She smiled affectionately at him, but something else was mixed in with it. Disappointment, maybe?

Luke shook his head, still confused. "I don't know what—"

"Never mind. I got my answer." She took a few steps closer to him, her mouth still showcasing her pretty smile, but her eyes seemed to be trying to blink away something that might have been a hurt. She lightly put her hand on his chest and patted. "Sometimes I forget what a truly upstanding guy you are, Luke."

"Lorelai, I don't know what you're –"

"Doesn't matter," she told him again, trying now to downplay the whole thing. "I'd better get outside to do my chaperone duty. Goodnight, Luke. Happy Thanksgiving," she added, now seeming anxious to get out the door.

"Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving," he repeated, but he had a feeling he'd be trying to make sense of_ that_ conversation for a long time to come.

* * *

The diner was a busy place on Black Friday afternoon. Everyone was ducking in to grab a bite after their early morning shopping orgies, although some were there just to feast on Luke's famous Day-After-Turkey-Day Sandwiches, spread with a mixture of mayonnaise and cranberry sauce, and served with a side of green bean casserole.

Luke was doing his best to keep up with demand. He was already exhausted and cranky. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. His nerves were stretched as thin as they ever had been from his constant surveillance of the door, praying for once that Lorelai was not going to be one of the multitudes coming through it.

He so zealously wanted Lorelai to stay away because he'd figured out her cryptic remark. It'd taken him until the wee hours of the morning, but at last he knew what she was talking about when she'd asked about his hand. Fortunately, it would all be OK, as long as he didn't see her for a while. Like ever.

He'd gone to bed the night before, thrilled to have another massive Thanksgiving mess cleaned up and done. His body thanked him for finally being off his feet. He scrunched up his pillow, grateful for the sleep that would come in a minute.

But instead he thought about Lorelai. And not in a good way. He thought about her weird question and the discomfort on her face while she asked it. Discomfort from Lorelai, who never got embarrassed or was too shy to bring up even the most awkward topic. What in the world had he done to get such a reaction from her?

He started replaying their interaction in the diner from the day before. He scrutinized his approach to their table, carrying their plates. Had he inadvertently stuck his thumb in the _au jus_ or something? He went over the painful conversation between them about whether or not they'd be at the diner for Thanksgiving dinner. He tried to remember how he'd brought out their generous portions of cherry pie. No matter how many times he dissected the exchange he couldn't find anything that would have prompted Lorelai's question.

He went over it once, twice, or maybe fifty times. He pictured their plates. He replayed the conversation. They had dessert. They paid the bill. They walked out the door. Nothing. There was nothing there.

Finally, while the clock ticked away his precious sleep minutes, Luke tried a different tack. He started from the beginning.

He pictured them as they came through the door, Lorelai looking her usual pretty self in that tan coat. (_Perky_, dammit! He meant _perky_!) She'd said 'Anywhere?' and he'd nodded agreement, and then she did that thing that drove him up the wall, going up to an already-seated customer and asking him if he'd mind moving. And he'd told her so; told her he hated it when she did that. She protested that it was her showstopper, but by then he was already out from behind the counter, starting to usher them over to an empty table…

Sudden anxiety made his heart beat faster. He rubbed his feet back and forth under the sheets, trying to dispel the escalating bad feeling spreading over him.

…He remembered reaching out a hand while trying to herd them to the table by the window. A sensory memory made the fingers on his right hand tingle. It was like he could feel the dense wool of her camel-colored coat. He could feel the soft curve of her –

_Oh, crap._ He sat straight up, propelled by humiliation at what he'd unintentionally done. Her ass. His hand. It didn't matter that he hadn't meant to touch her like that. It didn't matter that he'd quickly moved his fingers up to her waist, which was where he'd actually meant to land. It didn't matter that he'd automatically blocked the whole thing from his mind, shielding him from disgrace, because he knew it now. And even worse, so did she. No wonder she'd seemed so wary and uncomfortable around him. She was probably afraid that move was an attempt on his part to change their long-standing dynamic.

He wanted to get out of bed and rant at his own stupidity and yell and kick things, but all that would do was wake Jess and throw another layer of humiliation onto him. So he forced himself to lie back down, squirming from the shame he felt.

Because he was ashamed. Totally and completely disgraced that he would have demeaned Lorelai by touching her like that and sending her a radically different message after so many years of their happily platonic relationship. His brain kicked his own butt until close to 2 AM, when he finally succumbed to pure exhaustion. But even as he fitfully fell asleep, a new and equally disturbing thought flickered through his brain: He'd had his hand on a highly desirable part of Lorelai's anatomy and hadn't even been able to enjoy it. What a waste of a golden opportunity.

He'd forced himself awake when the alarm blared and had managed to stumble through the morning and most of the afternoon. Now Luke did a quick reconnaissance of the entry once again, more convinced than ever that he didn't dare see her today. If he could just get some distance from the unintentional groping, he fervently hoped they could put it _behind_ them. He grimaced at his accidental pun, went into the kitchen, and threw another serving of fries into the fryer. Lorelai had seemed willing last night to just let the whole thing slide. If he laid low for a few days, maybe it could all be forgotten.

Luck, however, was not on his side. The girls blew in a few minutes later, laden down with bags and trading shopping tips with the other diners in attendance. They packed themselves and their stuff into one of the small two-seater tables, pulling off their knitted caps and rubbing their hands together in anticipation of hot coffee and chili fries.

Luke was alone on the floor and had no choice but to wait on them. To be on the safe side, he stood on Rory's side of the table.

"Luke! Look what we found!" Lorelai grabbed a bag and dumped the contents onto the table. At least a dozen colorful pairs of child-sized gloves fell out. "Aren't they great?" She selected a tiny pink pair and shoved her hand into one glove, which amazingly grew to fit her hand. "See? They're magic gloves! They fit everybody." She picked up a green pair and held them out to him. "Here, try these on. They'll even fit your huge paw." She rose from the chair and leaned over towards him, trying to hand him the gloves.

He jumped another half-foot backwards, not wanting to take a chance of getting too close to her and the tight jeans she had on, which were doing _such_ a phenomenal job of emphasizing the very part of her body he wanted to forget she had. "I'll take your word for it," he replied, practically growling from his perceived torment.

"Well, aren't you Mr. Grumpy today," Lorelai commented, taking his mood in stride. She started digging through some of the other bags.

"Did you go shopping too?" Rory asked him.

"No, I've been a little busy here," he said caustically, motioning at the full house.

"We think we got a great gift for Grandma," Rory informed him, ignoring his bad mood the same way her mother did.

"Ooh, we sure did!" Lorelai nodded madly. "We went over to Mrs. Kim's and picked out the one thing we'd never want in our own house. That way we know Emily will love it!"

"It's a vase," Rory explained, but then she stopped and looked hesitant. "We think," she added. "But it's old and ugly, and that usually seems to be what Grandma values in antiques."

"You eating?" Luke asked brusquely, once again indicating the crowd in the diner and his need to get to work.

"We want the famous Day-After-Turkey-Day turkey sandwiches, right?" Lorelai said to Rory. "Only instead of the green beans, can I get stuffing?"

"And mashed potatoes for me," Rory requested. "If that's OK, Luke."

"Sure," he replied, willing to agree to anything if it got him away from their table. He moved away swiftly, writing down their order as he went.

Once their plates were ready he was able to grab one of the part-timers to take it out to them, and then he managed to hide in the back cooking for most of the remainder of their visit. All was going well until he found himself behind the cash register when Lorelai stepped up to pay.

She smiled at him and he sulkily stared back, really not wanting to be forced into this interaction with her.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Lorelai looked at him with true concern. "Are you getting sick?"

"I'm fine," he ground out, _so_ wanting her gone.

"I hope so." Lorelai still looked worried. "You've had a couple of insanely busy days. I guess you're entitled to be grumpy if you want." She held out her order ticket and a $10 bill.

The idea of reaching out to take it from her and maybe brushing her fingers as he did so sent a sickening wave of cold, crazy fear over him. He just couldn't take the chance. "Put it on the counter," he ordered.

"What?" Lorelai looked at him exactly the way she should have at his silly request, as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "Here. Just take it." She waved it under his nose.

"No. Put in on the counter." He snatched up some other tickets beside the register, hoping it looked like he was in the midst of doing something.

"Luke! What is wrong with you? Just take the money!" Exasperated, she grabbed at his hands, trying to force the money into them.

He lunged to the side, out of her reach. "Put it on the counter," he begged, now desperate.

Lorelai stopped and stared at him. "Do I have cooties or something?" she muttered, but she finally put the ticket and the money down.

He counted out fifty-six cents. It was a difficult thing to do, since he was now positioned to the side of the cash register instead of in front of it. Lorelai held out her hand for the change, but instead Luke slapped it down on the counter.

"Really?" She looked at him with a sneer. "Seriously, what in the world is going on with you?"

People were starting to take notice of their altercation. "Nothin'," he said, lowering his voice. "Look. You expect me to go along with your bizarre crap all the time. Just this once, can't you go along with a whim of mine?"

She started to say something, but clamped her lips together instead. She glared at him for a few seconds longer before pushing the change back at him. Leaning towards him she hissed, "Well, here's a tip for you. There's bizarre, and then there's certifiable. I suggest you figure out the difference." Then she turned on her heel and charged back to Rory. She said a few words to the girl, and they picked up their bags and left, with Lorelai giving him one last dirty look as they exited.

* * *

Over the next few days Luke perfected a Lorelai avoidance method. The second he saw her head going by the window he'd yell to the kitchen that he needed to go run an errand, and then he'd dash for the back door. Or he'd say that he had to make a phone call upstairs. Or that he needed to spend time inventorying the stockroom. Anything to take him out of the dining room while she was there.

The excessive ploys he was using to avoid her seemed ridiculous, even to him. He'd started it initially because he was embarrassed and just wanted to give himself a break from feeling like a jerk around her. And then he told himself he was trying to protect her. He didn't want her to think he was trying to make a play for her. He didn't want her to worry that he somehow wanted to change their relationship. He'd heard her stories through the years about all of the guys that had tried and failed to impress her. The last thing he wanted was to be added to that group of losers.

But it all came crashing down on Wednesday, when ironically enough, he was walking down the street running a legitimate errand.

"Luke!"

He stopped and turned automatically, even as his consciousness was warning him about whose voice that was.

Lorelai ran across the street and started walking beside him. "Man, I haven't seen you in forever. You've been like a ghost. Rory and I thought maybe you left town without telling us, except that the pancakes have still been good, so we knew that meant you were still here. What's going on? Where have you been?"

Luke moved over to the very edge of the sidewalk, nearly brushing the buildings they were passing with his shoulder to put more room between them. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, the better to keep them out of trouble. "Just busy," he said, trying to walk a little faster to discourage her from accompanying him.

"Busy with what?"

He shrugged. "Stuff."

"Luke." She laughed a little bit, self-consciously. "You're not, like, trying to avoid me, are you?"

"Not everything's about you, Lorelai," he snapped, looking straight ahead.

"I know that," she said, equally irritated. "But there's something going on. I wish you'd just –" Practically trotting to keep up with him, Lorelai's foot hit a patch of ice. There was a moment of frantic scrambling for balance before she went down on her bottom, hard. "Ow," she whimpered, after a second of stunned silence.

Luke's momentum had taken him a few steps further up the street. When he heard her hit the ground he turned and came running back. "Geez, Lorelai, are you OK?" Spontaneously he reached a hand down to help her up.

It was during that moment, while his hand was outstretched to help her, and her luminous blue eyes were looking pitifully up at him, that he realized his whole rationale about why he was avoiding her was totally backwards. He wasn't doing it to protect her. He was doing it to protect _him_. Because the fact was, deep-down he understood that he _could_ totally be a jerk and a loser and someone happy to seize every opportunity possible to grope her. His feelings for her, in fact, were anything but platonic. He was right to keep his distance before the whole truth spilled out and she'd turn her back on him forever, casting him into her ever-growing pile of rejected lovers.

Just as Lorelai made to grab his proffered hand, he snatched it back, and then wretchedly watched as wrath dried up the tears left in her eyes from the pain of the fall.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" she yelled at him, positively fuming.

He stepped away from her, shaking his head. He shoved his hands back into his pockets. The revelation had left him feeling numb and the power of speech had completely deserted him.

Taylor came jogging up. "Lorelai! Goodness, young lady, are you all right?" He bent over and tugged on her arms, helping her to stand. "That was quite a tumble you took." He pointed righteously at the printing shop beside them. "I've told Ethan a thousand times that he and he alone is responsible for the removal of all ice and snow from the walkway in front of his establishment. I've a notion to go in there right now and give him a piece of my mind. So just remember, Lorelai, if you decide to sue, sue him _personally_, not the town."

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Miss Patty walked up in a hurry, puffing a little from her effort. She juggled a Doose's shopping bag from one arm to the other, and then put her free arm around Lorelai. "You didn't break that gorgeous tush of yours, did you? Because that would be a crying shame."

Two women came out of the print shop and stopped to see what was going on. Others already on the street started to drift over. As unobtrusively as possible, Luke backed away from the growing crowd. Only Lorelai's angry eyes followed him as he turned and fled towards the diner.

The diner didn't prove to be a sanctuary for long. The door crashed open and Lorelai entered, her face still glowering. She marched up to the counter and almost hoisted herself onto a stool, but at the last moment seemed to remember her sore bottom and thought better of it.

Still glaring, she leaned towards him, her voice low and accusatory. "This is all about you touching me the other day, isn't it? You remembered."

There didn't seem to be much point in denying it. Impassively, Luke nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the countertop.

"And what? Now you're scared to come near me or something?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"Don't be silly." Luke tried his best to scoff.

Lorelai shook her head and took a big, cleansing breath of air. When she spoke again the anger was gone and she seemed almost anxious to get things settled between them. "Look, you didn't mean to touch me like that, right?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, then, it's over. Done. I forgive you." Lorelai held out her hand for a shake. "Now we just forget it ever happened."

Luke stared at her hand. He wanted to take it. In fact, to continue with the self-honesty, he wanted to caress it. He wanted to kiss each one of her fingers, and then take her hand and put it against his face…

Trying to shield her from his errant thoughts, he stubbornly kept his arms tight across his chest and took a step away from the counter.

"Oh, for the love of –" Lorelai muttered, running out of patience. "What is going on behind that thick skull of yours?" Unexpectedly she tore around the counter, and for a moment Luke thought she meant to slap him. Instead she reached behind him, took a nice healthy handful of his right cheek and gave a good squeeze. "There," she announced with satisfaction. "We're even. You've goosed me; I've goosed you. We're back on an even playing field. No more weirdness. Agreed?"

He couldn't even begin to catalog all of the contradictory emotions running through him. All he knew was he didn't dare be this close to her for one moment longer. He bent down to scowl into her face, trying his best to seem threatening.

"Don't ever touch me again," he warned her heatedly. He spun around and stomped into the kitchen, hoping that he'd made her mad enough to storm back out of the diner. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her filled him with relief. But unfortunately, it also made him bow his head in despair.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, during a period of calm, Luke glanced out the front window and saw Lorelai standing there, looking wistfully through the glass at him. He looked away momentarily, swallowed hard, and then motioned for her to come in.

The past two days had been educational for him. He'd learned during those two lonely days that he was newly motivated to keep the truth of his feelings under wraps. He'd do anything in order to keep her coming into the diner; to have her remain just his friend. He couldn't stand having her be outside of the diner and outside of his life. He missed seeing her too damn much.

Lorelai slowly made her way up to the counter. The stool where she normally perched while they talked was taken by a guy eating a burger.

Keeping his eyes steadily on Lorelai, Luke leaned over to the guy. "Hey, sorry, but this seat is reserved. Do you mind moving to a table?"

The guy stopped chewing and looked at Luke quizzically. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Lorelai, appraising her. With a shrug he gathered up his food and shuffled off to a table.

"Thanks," Lorelai told the diner, climbing a little gingerly up onto the stool he'd just vacated.

"You're OK," Luke acknowledged with concern and embarrassment, dipping his head generally at her, not wanting to single out any specific portion of her body.

"Couple of bruises. No big deal."

"Good. I'm glad," he said sincerely, still mentally flogging himself for not helping her up.

Lorelai sat there for a few quiet minutes, running her fingertips over the counter's edge. At last she seemed to make up her mind. She looked up at him solemnly. "Are you seeing someone?"

"Am I seeing someone?" Luke had déjà vu, thinking that this question was as random as the one about his hand that had started this whole upset between them. "You mean, like dating?"

"Yeah. Dating." She took a big breath and held it for second before blowing it out. "Are you?"

"No." He studied her, trying to figure out what in the world was behind this. "Why?"

She shrugged, suddenly not interested in looking at him. "Rory thought maybe you were."

"Rory thought –" He shook his head, trying to get it all to make sense. "Why would Rory think I was dating someone?"

Lorelai looked put out that she had to explain it. "Because Rory can tell that we're having one of our spats. And since I wouldn't tell her what it was about, she started coming up with reasons of her own, and one of her speculations was that I'd asked you out and you'd turned me down." Her mouth took on a pout and her whole face grew sullen. "So I said that would never happen, and she said yes it would. And I said 'Why would he say no?' and she said 'If he was already secretly dating someone else.'" Lorelai glanced over at him. "But you're not dating anyone else?"

Luke remembered their 'bizarre versus certifiable' conversation of a week ago, but didn't think it would be productive to bring it up at the moment. "No, I'm not dating anyone," he repeated.

"And then she said that maybe you wouldn't want to date me because it would be too weird, since she was dating Jess." She gave him one of those irritated looks again. "So is that it?"

"No, that wouldn't bother me at all," Luke stated, deciding that playing along with her made-up scenario might be the most prudent course of action.

Lorelai nodded curtly. "And then Rory said that you'd turn me down if you weren't attracted to me. She said maybe I just wasn't your type."

Luke took a few moments, debating what to say. "I think we can rule that one out," he finally said dryly.

Her mouth lost the pout as a small, pleased smile played over it, but she sobered again immediately. "And then she said that since we've been friends for so many years, maybe you'd say no because it would be too scary to try something new and end up losing what we've always had together."

Their eyes found each other and they shared one of those moments they had sometimes, where they each could _almost_ read the other's thoughts. Quietly, Luke said, "There might be some truth in that one."

Lorelai nodded in silent agreement and looked down at the counter in front of her. She cleared her throat. "So anyway, if I did ask you out, you'd say no, right?"

Luke started to wonder if he was dreaming up this whole conversation. "_Are_ you asking me out?"

"Well, it doesn't matter, because you'd say no, right?"

He leaned over the counter and bravely chanced putting one hand over hers. "Lorelai, you'd have to be completely crazy to think for even one minute that I'd say no to a date with you."

Her cheeks pinked up with pleasure but she still looked apprehensive. "So does that mean you _do_ want me to ask you out?"

"I think I've got a better idea," Luke said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "Lorelai, would you like to go out with me?"

She relaxed and a blinding smile lit up her face. "Yes," she agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

He was a little blown away by her immediate response. "OK, then." He scrambled for something to say next. "Uh, Saturday night?"

"Saturday night would be great," she confirmed, still looking very pleased. "Where are you taking me?"

He straightened up and scratched at his forehead. "You might have to give me a little time to figure that out."

"Well, don't take too much time. It's tomorrow night, you know," she pointed out.

"I know." Where in the world could he take Lorelai Gilmore to convince her that he _was_ the guy for her?

"Hey, Luke?" Her voice was soft, and when he looked over at her she shrugged her shoulders self-consciously. "I missed you, the last couple of days."

A lump came into his throat. "I missed you too," he admitted.

She looked even happier. "Do you know what else I missed?"

He sighed. "Yep." He reached for a mug and filled it with coffee.

"Thank you," she said smugly, wrapping her hands around the oversized cup.

"I'll get your pie in a minute," he promised. He walked out from behind the counter and headed towards the guy who'd given up his seat for Lorelai. He wanted to tell him that his meal was on the house.

* * *

On Saturday evening Luke parked in front of Lorelai's house just as it was starting to get dark. It was sort of early to arrive for a date, but they had quite a few miles to cover and Luke wasn't completely confident in the directions he'd been given. He wanted to make sure they had plenty of time to get there.

He was bounding up the porch steps when Lorelai stepped out of the door, looking so luscious that he nearly tripped on the top step. She had on the same camel-colored coat she'd worn for Thanksgiving, but under it he could see a short black skirt and high black boots. His already-elevated heart rate ramped up a few more notches. This date was actually happening.

Lorelai reached out a hand and stopped him from coming any closer. "Excuse me, sir, but you'll have to leave. I'm waiting for my date, Luke Danes."

"Very funny," he said sarcastically.

Lorelai gasped. "Why, you sound just like Luke, but you can't be." She stroked a hand against his smooth face, and his heart jumped again. "Luke always has about three days' worth of whiskers on his cheeks," she explained, and then she raised the hand to his head, lightly fingering through the hair over his ears. "And I don't believe that Luke has hair at all. That's why he always wears a hat." She moved her hand to his chest, and looked with approval at the sweater and the leather jacket he had on. "And Luke is allergic to all fabrics except flannel. So you can't be him."

"Lorelai –"

She gasped again. "You do sound like him, stranger. Tell you what, say, 'Red meat will kill ya.'"

"Red meat will kill ya," Luke obligingly repeated.

She still looked skeptical. "Hmmm. I'm just not sure. Well, there's one way to confirm it." She leaned towards him, and for one heart-stopping moment, Luke thought she meant to kiss him. Instead she reached behind and goosed him.

"Yep, it's you," she said, laughing. "You couldn't fake that."

"Come on," he said, rolling his eyes. He took her elbow and they climbed down the steps and headed for the truck.

"You look very pretty, by the way," he told her shyly, helping her in.

Once he was in the driver's seat, Lorelai said, "You know, you'd never said anything like that to me at all until Thanksgiving night. I had no idea you thought I was pretty."

He backed the truck out into the street. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean to say it that night, either. I meant to say perky, but somehow it came out as pretty." He glanced over at her, smiling ruefully. "Freudian slip, I guess."

"Good one, then," Lorelai said approvingly. "So where are we going tonight?"

"It's a surprise," Luke said quickly. He still wasn't sure that he had enough guts to take her where he'd planned. If he chickened out he could still take one of the Hartford exits instead and find them a restaurant.

Sure, he thought anxiously to himself. On a Saturday night. Without a reservation. That's a great plan.

Soon Lorelai started chatting about the disastrous Thanksgiving dinner with her parents, and he felt calm enough after a few more miles to really listen to her and give her counsel on how to perhaps deal with them and the increasingly real possibility that Rory might be accepted to Yale. That segued into talking in general about Rory, and then they talked about Jess, and then they talked about Jess _and_ Rory.

The miles burned away and the view outside the truck went from suburban to rural to empty countryside. It was now completely dark, and the lack of any light except for the dashboard was making it hard for Luke to see the map and directions he'd scribbled onto a scrap of paper. He stopped talking as he concentrated more on his driving, straining to see the signs at the corners of lonely roads.

Eventually he realized that Lorelai had stopped talking too. He glanced over at her and saw that she had pressed herself up against the passenger side door.

"You OK?" he asked, concerned at her silence.

"Would you stop the truck?"

He turned his head to look at her again, now really worried. "Are you carsick?"

"Luke, stop the truck. Now."

He checked the rearview and pulled over onto the berm. "What's wrong?"

"Look," she said, obviously struggling to find the right words. "You're Luke, and I know that everything is fine because…you're Luke. We've known each other for years. But at the same time, this is the first time we've been alone like this. It's our first date. And you've driven me out here in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, with nothing but empty fields for miles, and you've turned us around so much that I have absolutely no idea where we are. The only thing I know for sure is there's no phone reception." She flashed her useless cellphone at him.

"I'm pretty sure I know where we are," he attempted to reassure her, thinking she was worried that they were lost.

"No, Luke, that's not it." She nervously wet her lips. "I was just thinking how much I'd yell at Rory, if she'd let some guy drive her out here in the middle of nowhere like this on their first date. The only thing I can see out here is all of these perfect locations to stash a body."

"Wait." He was playing her words through his brain again. "Are you trying to say that you think I brought you out here to strangle you?" He waved a hand out towards the darkness, feeling the indignation building. "You think I scouted out a location where I could hide the body?"

"Well, no, not when you put it like that." Lorelai had the grace to look embarrassed. "When you put it like that, it just sounds silly."

"Damn right it's silly." He felt the resentment peaking. His words were clipped and angry. "After all the time you've known me, you actually think I could do you bodily harm?"

"No, Luke, of course not." She looked miserable now. "I just was thinking about Rory being in this situation, and my imagination got away from me. Of course I know you're not a serial killer." She paused for several beats. "I mean, you're not, are you? You know how the neighbors always say, 'Oh, he was such a nice man.' 'He was a quiet fellow; kept to himself a lot.'" She looked at him speculatively. "That does sort of sum you up, you know."

He'd planned on doing a bit of yelling to let her know how offended he was. He was totally shocked when a laugh snorted out of him instead. He tried to get back into annoyance mode, but another laugh burst out of him first. The more he tried to stifle the laughter, the funnier the whole situation seemed. Soon he was leaning against the door, helpless with laughter. Trying to get back into control, he crossed his wrists over the steering wheel and leaned his forehead on them, his back continuing to shake from suppressed chortles. Eventually he straightened up, wiped the tears from his eyes, and chanced a look over at Lorelai.

She was still sitting rather primly on her side of the seat, but a grudging smile was visible on her mouth. "Luke, I didn't actually mean –″

He cut her off by leaning over and gently grasping her shoulders, encouraging her to turn to face him. "Listen, I admit, there was possibly a time when the idea of squeezing the life out of that pretty neck of yours might have held some appeal. Probably back during those interminable years you insisted on calling me Duke. But now?" He angled his head down, putting his forehead against hers, and tentatively ran a hand through her hair, against the side of her face. "Sweetheart, if I try to get you alone in the dark now, believe me, it's not going to be because I want to strangle you." Still euphoric from his laughing fit, he tilted her chin up and kissed her.

He kept the kiss gentle but still thought he might pass out from the sheer overload to his senses. The unimaginable delight of her lips pressed against his, combined with the ecstatic leftover buzz from the laughter was almost too much. Somehow he found the strength to pull back, but then Lorelai applied pressure to the back of his neck, bringing him back for another mingling of their lips.

"Nice," she murmured dreamily, releasing him.

Grinning, he found the piece of paper with the directions where it had fallen to floor. He shook it at her and put the truck back in gear. "Now if you can give me about five more minutes without distracting me with murder plots, I think we're just about there."

Luke took the next road to the left. It curved after another mile, allowing them to see a light up ahead. Drawing nearer, they could see that the light was coming from a large barn. Torches and fires burning in metal drums lit up the grounds in front of the barn. Pennants and heraldic flags fluttered in the breeze. Luke pulled off the road and parked over to the side where some twenty other cars were parked.

"Don't get out," he warned her, diving out of his door. He came around to her side and helped her down. "The ground's pretty rutted over here. I don't want you to trip." He put his arm around her, helping her pick her way over the uneven dirt in her high-heeled boots.

"What is this place?" Lorelai asked in awe, looking around at the banners.

Instead of answering, Luke just smiled mysteriously and kept them moving towards the partially opened barn doors.

Unbelievably, as they drew closer to the barn, a very large man in chainmail stepped out and blocked their path.

"Halt," he ordered them, his long blond hair whipping about in the wind. He pointed a very real-looking sword at them. "State your name and the reason you trespass upon the King's keep tonight. Be you friend or foe?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Luke muttered under his breath, but Lorelai was instantly in her element.

"We be friends, good sir knight," Lorelai declared, and dropped down into a deep curtsy that drew admiring looks from both Luke and the guy playing dress-up. "Prayeth you allow us in to see the king."

"I'm, uh, Luke Danes," Luke offered up, feeling more foolish with each syllable.

"Oh, Squire Danes! Yes, we've been expecting you," the wannabe knight said, finally tearing his eyes away from Lorelai. He sheathed his sword and ushered them closer to the barn opening. "The fair Elizabeth had given us notice to expect your arrival. The king will be much pleased to have your company." He picked up a book lying on a small table and made a mark in it. He then gave Lorelai his full attention again. "And what be your name, gentle lady?"

"This is Lorelai," Luke cut in before she could answer.

"Ah, the Lady Lorelai. I believe there's something awaiting you." The knight knelt to reach a box under the table and brought out a crown, which he presented with a flourish to Lorelai.

"Luke! Look! I've got a crown!" she boasted, immediately placing it on her head. "This is _exactly _what I've needed all of my life!"

"Please proceed into the keep for the feast and the games," the knight instructed them, bowing. "Our serving wench, Evelyn, will show you to your table."

Inside the barn it was warmer and brighter. There were electric lights and a few discretely placed heaters. Multiple braziers were smoldering around a large arena in the center of the space, lending a smoky authenticity to the medieval trappings. It smelled of smoke and horse, straw and sawdust, and also of something juicy and roasting, which made their mouths water.

Evelyn came up to greet them. She was a young girl, probably barely in her teens. A white cap covered her hair and an apron nearly too big for her covered everything else. "M' lord. M' lady," she said, bobbing a quick curtsy after showing them to a table facing the arena.

"What is this place?" Lorelai asked again, even before she'd settled into her seat. She looked around wide-eyed at the waiting horses and the people in costume, as well as at the other spectators seated by them. "How in the world did you know about this?"

Luke sighed deeply. "From my sister, Liz. Jess's mom. She's a first-class kook. She hangs around with most of these people all summer, doing what they call renaissance fairs. A group of her fellow flakes are trying to come up with something to bring in income over the winter, and they obviously have decided to borrow heavily from the Medieval Times franchise. So they're going around the countryside, finding places to big enough to joust in, and putting on these shows to see if they can make a living at it." Luke shrugged. "Liz called to tell me about it because they were going to be close to Hartford. I told her I wasn't interested, of course, but then when this opportunity with you came up, I thought, well, it might be something you'd like."

Lorelai's eyes, if possible, were shinier and bigger than ever. "Jousting? They're going to joust? Here?"

"That's the plan," Luke nodded, unable to keep from rolling his eyes just a tad.

Right then Evelyn returned with a heavy pewter tray. She sat a loaf of bread so freshly baked that it was still steaming in front of them, along with a jar of honey and two tall tankards filled with something foamy. "The rest of your meal will be here soon," she said. "Just raise your glass if you wish more ale." She bobbed her head again and hurried off.

"Oh. My. God." Lorelai looked from the food, to Luke, to the spectacle beginning to unfold in the arena. Without warning she turned and threw her arms around Luke, landing a solid kiss against his mouth. Her crown toppled off and Luke reached for it, placing it with great care back on top of her head. "Best. Date. Ever!" she proclaimed, so happy that she appeared to be glowing. She reached for the bread and tore off a hunk for each of them, since there were no utensils.

Luke couldn't take his eyes off her. He was basking in her delight. It was possible that her glee was catching, because as incredible as it seemed, he realized he was enjoying the evening, too.

* * *

The drive home seemed shorter. Now that Luke understood the directions he'd been given, he found the way back to the highway without one turnaround. He drove steadily, listening to Lorelai's non-stop, enthusiastic commentary of their evening.

He parked in front of her house, helped her out even though there were no tripping hazards visible, and walked her up to the porch.

"So you had a good time?" he asked as they climbed the steps.

"Luke, I got a crown." Lorelai shook the bejeweled piece of plastic in his face, still grinning broadly. "I had a fantastic time." She put her royal souvenir and her purse down on the glider and then turned back to him, linking her arms around his neck. "Where are you taking me next time, huh? The circus?" she teased. "It will have to be something pretty spectacular to beat this."

Luke rubbed her arms and struggled with how to tell her what he felt he needed to, especially after tonight.

"You've been awfully quiet," Lorelai observed, suddenly subdued. "Did you not have a good time?"

Her question caught him off-guard. "I did," he admitted. "Mostly because I was there with you, I think."

"So that's good then, right?" Her eyes were anxiously looking to him for confirmation.

"Look, Lorelai, this thing between us – I just don't see how it's going to work." But even as he confessed his darkest fear, he clamped his hands on her forearms lying over his shoulders, wanting to keep her tethered to him. He bent his head against hers, so she wouldn't see the pain on his face, but he couldn't keep the gruff desperation out of his voice. "And you have no idea how very, _very _much I wanted this to work out."

Lorelai tugged her arms free of him and stepped back. She wouldn't look at him. "Why don't you think it'll work?" she asked calmly, but with an edge to her voice.

"Because we're just too different," he said, shrugging under the hopelessness of it. "You are so full of – of, well, joy. You see the good in everything. You enjoy life, Lorelai. Every day's a party to you. But me – you know me. I'm not like that at all. I'm a grump and a grouch, which you've told me a million times. I don't like many people. I don't like mingling. I don't like parties or being forced into going out into crowds. I'm perfectly happy to sit home alone night after night. If we were to be together, I'd be worried the whole time that I'd be pulling you down to my hermit-like level. And I don't want that. I don't want to see you lose your spark."

She considered that thoughtfully, her head bobbing a little bit. "It runs both ways, Luke. You know I enjoy a good night of being a couch potato. And you just admitted you had fun tonight."

"Yes, but I don't want you to feel like I'm holding you back. And I don't want to be constantly wondering when you'll get tired of the boring old diner guy."

Lorelai looked grimly determined. She was still slightly nodding her head while surveying the neighborhood from her position on the porch. "So you don't think this will work, huh?"

Luke shook his head, heavy with regret.

"OK, then." She moved over to him, fitting her arms around his neck again. In spite of what he'd just said, Luke pulled her tight against him, or as tightly as he could with their coats between them.

"Now I'm going to show you why you're wrong," she whispered, and by the time she'd finished the words her mouth was over his lips. She kissed him slowly and teasingly, exploring first his top lip and then the bottom one, until his patience was exhausted and he threaded his fingers through her hair and held her head still so that he could kiss her properly.

"You're right. I'm wrong. I'm _so_ wrong," he murmured to her between further kisses.

"I love a man who can admit he's wrong," Lorelai told him breathlessly.

They stood together on the porch for a long time, proving over and over to each other just how right this relationship was going to be. Slowly, Luke's fingers slipped from their hold on her waist. They traveled southward, finding once again the soft curve underneath her camel-colored coat. And this time, that was where they stayed.


End file.
